


Sorry Can't Save Me Now

by rosethorngirl



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Introspection, Lucifer POV, My Take On Lucifer's Feelings About Chloe's Betrayal, No Dialogue, One Shot, Sad, Season/Series 04, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 03:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20900966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosethorngirl/pseuds/rosethorngirl
Summary: "Sorry can't save me nowSorry I don't know howSorry there's no way out (sorry)...but down"~Billie Eilish "listen before i go"





	Sorry Can't Save Me Now

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I haven't abandoned "To Command," I am just really busy and trying to make sure the next chapter makes sense and is cohesive for the final act of that story. So stay tuned there. 
> 
> I heard this song and immediately got inspired. Please take a listen if you haven't heard it before. --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F3QL2R77yJM
> 
> Enjoy :)

Billie Eilish, “listen before I go…”  
“Take me to the rooftop  
I wanna see the world when I stop breathing,  
Turning blue  
Tell me love is endless,  
Don't be so pretentious  
Leave me like you do  
If you need me,  
Wanna see me  
Better hurry  
‘cause I'm leaving soon  
Sorry can't save me now  
Sorry I don't know how  
Sorry there's no way out (sorry)  
But down  
Hmm, down…”  
~~~C&L~~~  
It feels so naïve now, he thinks to himself as he lies on the ground letting the rain soak him through from above.

The very idea.

The very notion.

The very want to feel as though it were a possibility…it’s so laughable, really.

Beings such as himself – well…that can’t even be said; there were no other beings such as himself.

Evil then…evil such as himself don’t get happy ever afters.

He knew that before…he always knew that.

He knew that the day of his fall so long ago, as he watched his life get ripped from his hands and thrown down into the Earth to be told in cautionary tales as twisted versions of half truths spun completely from a biased, misinformed perspective.

He knew that the day he crash landed in a realm not of his own with no direction or access to the things he was driven mad with pride for as his father had accused him of; forced to perform duties he had no wish to perform, and to play a role he had no desire to play.

He knew that every time he sneaked away from his prison and saw the twisted, ugly visage of what the world thought they understood of him and perpetuated lies about his wants and desires. As if he truly was sitting upon the hunk of rock Hell calls a throne plotting to corrupt the humans he generally gives little thought for beyond sex and filling the empty hole in his chest that had rotted out from the pain and disappointment of his life.

…or that used to be true.

It used to be that he gave no thought and had no care for what humanity did with their lives. It used to be that the idea of wanting to be involved in with someone past a single night of fun and passing pleasure seemed both ludicrous and highly improbably for the likes of him. That is until…well, her.

With her golden hair and ocean eyes. Her hopeful morality and her soft smiles. Her spine of steel and her easy (altogether too easy) friendship. Luring him in like a moth to her killer flame.

Killer. Funny. He chokes on the rain as he thinks of this and gasps as the water in his nose makes breathing even harder. He chokes and fight the urge to move. He deserves this.

She wanted to kill him…or stun him for exorcism…or whatever it was she was planning to do with that priest. Never mind the fact that it wouldn’t have worked. Never mind the fact that it was such a damned cliché to think the Devil could be harmed by “Holy Water” mixed with whatever additive the priest cooked up. Arsenic, maybe.

Parlor tricks and smoke and mirrors is all it was, created by people with limited understanding and sensationalized by the film industry. The myths the world had of him were endless; but he always did take personal offense to the idea that he was so evil he could not touch any human designations of their ideas of “Holy” things without injury. Mere poppycock, the whole idea that he somehow his kryptonite would be something that cliché. He can touch a cross and bathe in Holy Water if he so chooses to. There is no smoke, no fire to be seen. Everything made by human hands, no matter the effigy it is meant to represent, is of no consequence to the celestial. Not even Maze would be harmed by a crucifix forged on Earth.

It just simply wasn’t like that. Isn’t that…neatly packaged. 

Nothing ever is.

But he could have explained that to her. He could have told her she was wasting her time plotting to…to do what she was plotting to do.

He chokes at the thought.

He just can’t help but wonder as he turns his whole body to the side and regretfully coughs out the water in his lungs, how much of the plotting did she do? Was she actively involved, and coming up with the idea on how to take him out? Was she brought in through promises of great rewards for her services to the world and doing God’s good work? 

Did it take a lot of convincing? Or was she just waiting for the chance to be rid of him the first chance she got so she jumped at the opportunity?

None of these answers matter, of course. 

None of these pieces to the end puzzle are necessary to get the picture of how she sees him now. He understands in heartbreakingly crystal clear clarity that the promises she made, the admissions of loyalty and faith in his person that she gave, were bought and sold to the highest bidder – damn the consequences. That his devotions he bestowed upon her were not only not returned, but were scorned and burned in the fires of her fear.

She was so afraid of him that she actually listened to the nonsense rattling of a deranged man instead of just talking to him. Instead of being brave enough to tell him herself she wanted nothing further to do with him.

But that would have been a mercy kill that he didn’t deserve even if it would have hurt less, but no…no it probably wouldn’t have hurt any less, would it? It would have hurt the same it just wouldn’t have had the added poison of her betrayal.

Three years of wasted time. Dying for her. Again and again. Protecting her. Again and again. Killing for her. Again and again.  
It all means nothing.

But yet, isn’t that in and of itself the joke? 

There is no time to waste. 

He will live forever with the knowledge of how little his worth was to the one being in all of creation he wanted to matter to.  
Forever alone in the reality of his disgrace.

And no one will be there to hear his cries or sobs choking sobs in the ground as it sinks into his soul, one final blaring time with the greatest of all blows to one’s heart they can receive, that he also means nothing. He is but flash paper in the lives of others. Used and gone. Easily forgotten but useful in the moment. From his father, to his mother, to his brother, to all his other siblings and beyond. 

He is a pawn in everyone else’s endless toiling game; and every time he thinks for a mere moment he may finally be on his board calling the shots, his legs are taken out from under him.

And he falls…and falls…and falls…

Failure. Monster. 

Devil.

That is who he is. 

And as the rain also falls…and falls…and falls…

He cries…and cries….and cries…

~~~C&L~~~  
“Taste me, these salty tears on my cheeks  
That's what a year-long headache does to you  
I'm not okay,  
I feel so scattered  
Don't say I'm all that matters  
Leave me, déjà vu  
If you need me, wanna see me  
You better hurry, I'm leaving soon  
Sorry can't save me now (sorry)  
Sorry I don't know how (sorry)  
Sorry there's no way out (sorry)  
But down  
Hmm, down…”  
~~~C&L~~~  
It doesn’t really hit him until days later.

She didn’t actually want to go on their date at all. 

He feels so ridiculously pathetic and stupid even as the thought sinks in, because it had been clearly established that she didn’t.

That it was all a ruse.

A lie.

But the real implications of that, the-the abject cruelty of the deception of that (because it was so very, very real for him) didn’t actually hit him until he stared at the sink in his kitchen and the discarded dishes from several days before laying forgotten in a heap at the bottom - dried food oxidized and beginning to really smell from lack of clean up.

It had been a week since the night of the revelation of her plans. He had spent it wrapped in his longest silk robe sprawled out in his living room, ordering box after box of take out, and drinking bottle after bottle of booze. 

He had only come in here because the most recent delivery driver didn’t give him any chopsticks for his beef low mein. And while he may be emotionally empty, he refused to disrespect a whole culture of people by sullying the experience of eating their cuisine with a dirty fork leftover from his order of cheese fries only an hour or so before.

He stands frozen in his kitchen, staring down at the dishes as if looking into the void.

The truth smacks him in the face and he can’t remember how to move. 

It really was all a lie. 

He had planned date after date that she turned down. 

He had obsessed about making it absolutely perfect for her. 

He dreamt of all the romantic happy endings they would create together. 

He had poured his lo-…he had poured his care into making her the grilled cheese, feeling so bloody accomplished and proud of himself to realize simple was better. 

Like a bloody. fucking. fool.

He looked to the whole world around him and both the Silver City above and the Infernal plane below like a simpering, pathetic blubbering buffoon!

And oh…he had bought into her story so perfectly.

He had believed her so completely. 

He had all but decided in his mind how he was going to find a way to fight against all the odds and return…could he even say the word “home” in his mind?...with her one day when she left this existence and passed onto the next. 

Because he would have followed her anywhere, even back down to hell. 

He would have given her anything, even the whole world on its knees and waiting for her orders.

She had him so blinded to her deceit with his endless joy of her return and acceptance that he cannot even believe he ignored all the signs staring him in the face.

Because the very thought of it being possible that that would be what she did to him was just so fucking unthinkable he can’t…he can’t…

And he snaps.

He doesn’t even know what he’s doing as he does it. 

All he sees is rage. All he knows is pain. All he feels is…

…empty. So very fucking empty.

Hours later. Late into the night and low mein long since past the point of being too cold to consume, he stares again listlessly at the destroyed state of his kitchen.

Scorch marks from star plasma fire burn the walls and cabinets. Broken dishes are scattered everywhere. Glass shards are intermixed in the bomb site that is left from his ire…

…and all that remains untouched is the dishes in the sink.

~~~C&L~~~   
“Call my friends and tell them that I love them  
And I'll miss them  
But I'm not sorry  
Call my friends and tell them that I love them  
And I'll miss them  
Sorry”  
~~~C&L~~~

Months later, in Earth time, Lucifer sits on his throne in Hell and stares into the distance.  
Well.

The world and his father all got their wish after all. 

The devil brought to heel because of his inability to forget his…his love for Chloe Decker.

And he will fall…and fall…and fall…

…forever…for her…

**Author's Note:**

> As always....kudos and comments are appreciated and give me so much love <3 Thank you for taking time to read my little story here.


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